I practically forced you into a mold to fill the void of my own unhappiness. I laughed at the jokes I knew where hiding pain. I told people the secrets I should've kept because I knew if I kept them I would hate myself for doing nothing. But its fine, because I hate myself for telling them. I can't stand the fear of uncertainty. And I know you need someone to be there. I just don't see what makes me qualified. I'm never there, we can barely see each other. I've messed up. Really bad this time. I don't know how to help. I can't even give you a hug. I'm sorry.

Sorry for ranting guys I just needed to get this out to someone who I don't know- so that way I'm not telling secrets again